


The Loss of Loki

by Roadstergal



Category: Norse Religion & Lore, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Death, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Other, Sacrifice, Self-Destruction, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 15:16:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14452011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roadstergal/pseuds/Roadstergal
Summary: I wrote the first vignette before seeing Infinity War, and the second afterwards.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Immortal](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14451531) by [Kahvi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kahvi/pseuds/Kahvi). 



 "Hello, father."

Her voice was smooth and calm, but nonetheless resonant, commanding.  Her hand, as well, was firm and controlling, grasping Loki's cold one, drawing him to his feet.

"Hel," he noted, struggling to draw breath, grasping at the wound that had collapsed his lungs, taking in the tall, slender figure of his daughter.  "It's been a while."

"I've been busy," she noted, looking at him steadily with her black eyes.  "I don't usually collect souls myself.  They find their way, eventually.  I took time for you, though."

"Very kind." And truth be told, he welcomed the idea. He was tired, so endlessly tired.  Tired of his ambition and jealousy, tired of being _used._   Tired of being neither good nor evil, failing at each in interesting ways.  In his daughter's embrace, he would have rest.  And, perhaps, forgetfulness, most blessed of all - the promise of peace.  "Lead on."

She shook her proud, dark head.  "No, father.  There are other considerations, now."

"Oh, come on," he snapped.  "This was a perfectly good end.  That would be the last twist  _this_ story needs."

"I go by the needs of the realm, not the needs of some narrative," she noted.  "You still have a role to play.   _Many_  roles."

"You know, some daughters do what their fathers tell them," he noted.  She had ever been strong-willed.  He was, he had to admit, very proud of her.

"Some fathers stick around to raise their daughters."  She put her hand on his chest, and he gasped as the flesh knitted back together.  "You have more power than I in the world of the living - there, I am impotent - but I control the world of the dead.  And I reject you from thence."

"But I want that," he confessed, grasping her hand. "I want to rest with you."

"You will, eventually," she promised.  "You all will.  You will rest with Thor, and with Frigga."

Loki bit his lip and looked down, releasing her.  "How long?"

She sighed and looked off into an impossible distance.  "I can tell you. I know the death of all who were, are, or will be.  I can tell you the day, the hour, and the manner."  She turned her dark eyes on him. "If you want to know.  I can tell you your future from here until then."

Loki straightened, relishing the ability to take a deep breath.  "I don't.  I may not be the master of my fate, but I want to pretend I do.  The illusion," his lip twisted, "is often as pleasing as the reality."  As he well knew.

Her thin lips curved upwards slightly.  "I am pleased, father." She grasped his hand in both of hers.  "A blessing for your daughter?"

Loki leaned in and kissed her cold cheek.  "I have no blessings to give, but you have my love and admiration."

"Keep up the good work, you mean?"  She smiled at him, a familiar cheeky grin.

"Yes.  I will..." He sighed, stepping back. "I will try to send fewer people to your realm."

She nodded, stepping back, fading from view.  Loki was alone, now, in the craggy landscape, sterile rocks stained with the blood of Asgardians and Dark Elves alike.  But no ship.  No Thor.


	2. Chapter 2

"Father."

Fire.  Thick, acrid smoke, making his eyes water.  The smell of burnt flesh, of spilled and congealed blood, clogging his unmoving throat, choking, agony in his neck.

"Father."

So long since he had seen his daughter.  He looked at her - he couldn't help it. His eyes were frozen open, not under his control.  A tall, dark figure, silhouetted in the smoldering flames; the bodies of those he had saved - for so short a time - were burning, blackening, turning to ash.  "Hel." No breath behind it.

She knelt next to him, her clothes unmarred by the fire and smoke.  The touch of her hand to his forehead was cool, a relief from the flames, the agony of his crushed throat, the _burning_. "I've come for you."

"Not now," he protested, though his protest was a death rattle. "We were so close..." He had been ready to leave, before.  His work had been done.  It was undone, now - could he not have the mercy to finish it?

"I know." Her hand was gentle on his forehead. "But you must come with me."

"Please. No."

"You will find solace in Helheim," she promised. "You will find Odin. Frigga yearns for you." On looking past him, the scene, the _other_ there who could not see her - "Thor, too, when his time has come."

"Too long," he protested.

"The universe owes you nothing."  And that was true, wasn't it.  The universe was what he made it, he had always believed, and acted accordingly - if he was not pleased with it, he would re-make it, through lying, through trickery, through illusion.  And yet it stubbornly resisted, no more so than now.  It was a reality he could not touch, not mold, not change.

His eyes would not close. His body would not obey.

"Please, father." Her voice was not fully steady.  "I have many to take today. Stop fighting me."

He let go.


End file.
